Starry, Starry Night
by The Grim
Summary: It is Hermione's final year at Hogwarts. Several things happen: a)Harry starts a Daring Challenge b)Hermione is first c)She has to handcuff herself to Severus Snape d)Her dare backfires e)What good will come of it?
1. A Daring Challenge

A/N: Okay, this is the _other _HGSS fic I said I had twiddling about in my head. You're probably wondering: WHAT'S WITH THE TITLE? Haha, there isn't one at this point. I have some ideas for what it should be called, but I'd like to see what _you_ reviewers could come up with! (It might prove amusing, for me at least.)

Disclaimer: I suppose I should admit to several attempts to steal JK Rowling's outline notes, and her ingenious mind, but I have failed miserably. So I try the best I can with what I've got.

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_I hate this school, _Severus Snape muttered under his breath. _Every year, more and more idiotic students enter through those doors; it gets worse as each year goes by. _Snape was, obviously, in a bad mood, but when wasn't he? It was bad enough with his older students to deal with as well as little wimpy first years. But he knew that he liked teaching Potions, even though he'd much rather prefer Defense Against the Dark Arts, he liked the art of potion-making better than most people thought. He was actually quite phenomenal. This reference to his talent caused a smirk to creep onto his features. Like any other dunderhead in the school would be as good as him. Students always wasted their talents in Potions. He had seen many a student fritter away their gifts in potion making. The whole concept of teaching students an art that ninety percent of them would ignore and never use… Well, it was enough to keep his relations with students very bitter and professional.

Severus was not looking forward to this year in particular. No matter how hard he tried, Longbottom (god forbid), Potter, Weasley, and many others had been eligible to take his NEWT Potions class, based on Dumbledore's convenient alteration to the OWLs the year before, allowing students who received an 'A' for acceptable, to be in the class. He had thought for sure that Longbottom would fail the OWLs in fifth year, but low and behold, he still managed to pass them, even without the help of Hermione Granger. _Miss Granger._ Now _that _was another story entirely, and one he really did not want to think about. With any luck, this year would be the same as the last, and the year before that, and the year before that. This was the last year he'd have to put up with her. That know-it-all Muggleborn, (he refrained from using the disgusting term, he would leave that to the miscreant of Lucius Malfoy). She'd come in, already having the entire text memorized and absorbed, the only hand raised to answer his questions, the only one, it seemed, to receive top-marks in Gryffindor. Sure, there were other brilliant minds, but none as exercised as Miss Granger's. Snape mentally shook his head, _why am I thinking about Miss Granger? That should be the last thing on my mind, or, even better, not in my mind at all! _He sighed, rose from his desk, looking sulkily at the clock on the wall. It was time to go _up _(he was in the dungeons, of course) to the Great Hall to welcome the pathetic first years and the annoying other years returning for their "Welcome feast." If an unfortunate person had been in the room with him, he would have spat at them, even though it was quite unlikely he would do such a thing. Anything involving Dumbledore made him sick. _Besides, just because the old geezer gave me this job doesn't mean I have to like him._ And with that, he swept out of the dungeon. Snape style.

As Snape made his way to the Staff table, past the soon-to-be-filled-with-loud-annoying-students house tables, Professor McGonagall greeted him, and he would rather she didn't.

"Ah, good afternoon, Severus. I'm sure you have prepared yourself for the upcoming year." God did he hate her nasal voice coupled with a constant pity of him.

"More than you know," Snape snapped, and sat down dutifully, displaying his intense dislike of their conversation. She didn't take the hint.

"Oh, Severus, do be a little more cheerful," McGonagall replied, not shaken by him, as always.

"I hate the word as I hate hell, all Gryffindors, and you," he snarled, and turned to stare straight ahead, pleased at the horrified look on her face that he could see through his peripheral vision. _Good, now she will leave me alone, at least temporarily. _

Before Snape knew it, no matter how much he willed time to slow, all the students excluding the first years had entered and taken their seats, filling the hall with their loud and excited voices. Snape pursed his lips in disgust. At any rate, Voldemort or his followers would kill a third or more of every house, for a third or more of each house was taken up by Muggleborns and Halfbloods. Of course, not very many ever leaked into Slytherin, but there were the scant few that seeped into the woodwork, but they paid for it dearly their entire way though Hogwarts. This caused him to smirk again. The Slytherins, of which he was babying and coddling, much to the dislike of all the other houses, was quite intentional. Why make the House strong? Voldemort will not want pathetic Slytherins who couldn't even tie their own shoes to join his ranks, even if they were Pureblood. His plan was to significantly decrease the amount of students that would grow up only to throw their lives away to serve the Dark Lord. But why on earth would Professor Snape want to protect the Slytherins, or more correctly, cripple them? _This bloody war will be over much quicker,_ he confirmed to himself. And he didn't want his entire House to become Death Eaters, even though now the House's infamous tradition of joining the Dark Lord had resurfaced in the minds of the students. They would be too weak and stupid to be of any use to Voldemort, he would make sure of that.

"When I call out your name, you will come forward and put on the Sorting Hat to be sorted into your houses." McGonagall's voice jerked Snape back to reality. His train of thought must have distracted him, for he missed Dumbledore's speech and the Sorting Hat's song. _Good riddance anyway._ His obsidian eyes traveled over the considerable bunch of new first years, laughing inwardly at their terrified faces. _I'll have fun with them,_ he thought wickedly. Maybe this year wouldn't be as bad as he expected.

"Adler, Gregory!" A small brown haired boy stepped forward and was the first to be sorted.

"Hufflepuff!" The Hat shouted after a few seconds. The Hufflepuff table cheered to welcome their new member, and Snape sank lower in his chair, an overwhelming feeling of dread coming over him. _And here we sit, admitting these feeble little mixed bloods. _No matter how stubborn he was about the superiority of Purebloods, him being one himself, he had to admit that the wizarding line of Great Britain would have died out by now. Many had let down their pride and dignity (in his opinion) and had married Muggles and Muggleborns, something he'd never dream or even fathom about doing. _Better them than me_.

Throughout the entire Sorting, only about seven students were accepted into Slytherin. Almost every single student in Slytherin was related, due to the inbreeding of the families, their goal at keeping impure blood out of the line of Slytherin. The concept was quite repulsive, but it was the only way that Slytherins survived. As long as a son and daughter of two families, whether they were full or second or third cousins, married, and had as many children as possible, preferably boys, it was fine. The thought made him sigh in contempt. He hated what Slytherin had become, but he was not going to show this outwardly.

Finally the Sorting was over, and the food appeared, and everyone 'dug in'. Snape ate his food as quickly as possible and exited the Great Hall without too much of a scene with Dumbledore, who was talking to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. _The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?!_ He realized that he had completely missed the introduction of the new teacher, and he hadn't looked to the right or left of him through the entire process of the Welcoming Feast, that he hadn't even seen who it was. Last year's had been unsuited for the job, and had quit the minute the school year was over. Then he thought, _maybe I don't want to know who it is_, and retired to his quarters to begin more preparing for tomorrow, the first day of classes.

"What classes do we have tomorrow, 'Mione?" Ron asked impatiently, looking over her shoulder.

"You've got your own schedule, Ron!" Hermione replied irritably.

'Well, yeah. But we got into some NEWT classes together, and we want to know what classes we'll have with you, since you take so many bloody subjects!" Ron shot back.

"I dropped Astronomy and Muggle Studies, Ron! I only have two more subjects than you, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy!" She snapped back just as quickly. Hermione sighed, would they ever stop quarreling?

"Hey, you guys, relax, okay. You don't need to argue on the first day!" Harry to the rescue, as always.

"Thank you, Harry. Ron is the one who insists on provoking these arguments," Hermione said sweetly, sending Ron a mocking glare behind Harry's back, who sat between them: bad decision on his part. Ron's ears were bright red, but he couldn't help but smile at her. Hermione started, wondering what Ron _really_ thought of her after all these years. They were older now, seventh years, and Ron had still not gotten over fourth year when she had decked herself out and had gone to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. Ever since then, he had been extremely accusatory and protective. She hoped that he would absorb some sense this year and find another girl to entertain his thoughts, for from his actions, she seemed to be the one on his mind. She smiled sadly. Maybe one, two years ago, if he had asked her out, she probably would have said yes, with her having a tiny crush on him, and Harry, for that matter, since third year. But if your best friends were boys, what girl wouldn't have a crush on one of them at some point? But they were her friends, and Harry only loved her as a best friend, something she believed Ron should follow suit in. _Oh well._ It was still hard. Krum had been her first and only 'relationship'. She could tell by his letters though that he wasn't infatuated with her anymore, but they still kept in touch. Hermione still was sad about not having anyone, though.

"_Why _do we have to have Snape for double Potions first on the first day of school?" Ron complained loudly.

"I don't know, some type of torture, I suppose," Harry replied resignedly. Nothing made Harry extremely excited or happy anymore, not since fifth year, and the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius's death.

"Well, we've survived before. No difference this year," Hermione added hopefully. Ron looked at her like she was on fire.

"Mione! The greasy git could fail us and we wouldn't graduate!" Ron replied angrily.

"Would you _stop_ with the name-calling of Professor Snape? It's not _his_ fault you mess up your potions!" said Hermione, interjecting.

"Come _on_, Hermione! You cannot be possibly defending that bastard," Harry interrupted, shocked. Hermione suddenly realized what she'd done. How could she have conceived defending Snape, who terrorized everyone with every chance he got, including her? She must've eaten something weird earlier that didn't agree with her. She obviously wasn't thinking clearly.

"Let's go up to the common room, and enjoy what little free time we'll have," Harry said tiredly, and they followed him up to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Ron immediately fished out a chessboard and began to play Wizard's chess with Harry. Harry didn't seem in the mood though, Ron was beating the tar out of him, and he didn't seem to notice. Hermione sat on the couch reading their NEWT Transfiguration book. Everyone else had long retired, leaving them traditionally, the last ones in the common room. Suddenly Harry had this strange gleam in his eye, and he started laughing out loud. Hermione and Ron were completely taken aback: Harry hadn't laughed that easily and freely since before the Department of Mysteries.

"I don't care if Voldemort is terrorizing everyone and in full force," he began, and from old habit, Ron and Hermione cringed. "I am going to have some fun this year, and no one can stop me," he finished determinedly.

"What do you have in mind, Harry?" Hermione asked, slightly wary, while Ron looked eager to hear what Harry had planned.

"We should have a Daring Challenge," he announced.

"A daring challenge?" Ron asked, confused. Hermione only grew more wary, anything sounding like that would mean breaking rules, and even though she'd broken plenty right along with Harry and Ron, she really thought they were over that. Guess not.

"Yes. We think of dares for each other throughout the rest of the year, and if the one dared fails or refuses to do it, they have to buy the others butter beers and candy at the next Hogsmeade trip, and they do the other's homework for a day."

"Sounds, fair," Hermione said, putting down her book. He had her attention; this could actually be fun, and might make Harry happier. Of course, the whole homework thing was pointless anyway; she practically did their homework for them all the time.

"What do you guys think?" Harry said, looking at his two best friends.

"I think its bloody brilliant," Ron said enthusiastically. Hermione nodded her agreement. Anything to get Harry's mind off of Voldemort and the fear of dying was okay in her book. She could suffer through a couple for that.

"So, who wants to take the first dare?" Harry said mysteriously. None of them volunteered, obviously.

"I have a Knut, let's flip for it," Ron said, drawing out the bronze little coin. "You guys go first, the winner flips the coin with me." Ron took the Knut and Hermione sat across from Harry. "What do you pick, Harry?"

"Heads," Harry said.

"Okay, here it goes." And Ron flipped the coin.

"Tails," he announced.

"Damn," Hermione muttered, and Ron and Harry looked at her funny for a second, and then Ron picked tails, and flipped the coin.

"Heads," he said triumphantly. "Hermione, you get the first dare," Ron said wickedly, causing Hermione to throw a cushion at his head.

"Fine, whatever. What is it, then?" _Great._ _Just my luck._

"Ron and I have to think of it first, dummy," Harry laughed again, causing Ron and Hermione to smile, both glad that Harry was looking better, joking around more. He'd been so uptight and serious last year, it was a relief.

"Okay, well, I'm going to bed. I'll leave you two to your plotting," Hermione yawned, and climbed up the stairs to go to bed, leaving the boys to discuss conspiratorially about their dare for her. _It won't be so bad_, she told herself as she got in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Boy, was she wrong.

"Hermione, over here," Ron whisper-yelled, beckoning her over to sit with them. They had arrived early for Potions on purpose, Snape and the other Gryffindors and Slytherins hadn't shown up yet.

"Okay, what torture do you have in store for me," Hermione joked. But when she saw the looks on their faces, her confidence faded.

"Your first dare…" Harry trailed off mischievously.

"Is to handcuff yourself to Professor Snape!" Ron finished.

"_What?_" Hermione managed to squeak. Ron withdrew a pair of handcuffs, like the ones used for criminals in the Muggle World.

"Fred and George gave them to me. Said they got them off someone else and thought it would be cool to give a Muggle thing to me," Ron said. "All you have to do is spill something close to the end of class, clean it up, and then when everyone's gone, handcuff yourself to Snape."

"And how will I do that?" She rasped, her mouth dry with fear. _Oh shit. _

"I dunno. We only came up with the dare," Harry grinned.

"You sneaky little bastards, I'll get you for this," Hermione hissed, glaring at them, her fear replaced with anger.

"Jeez, Mione, just a dare. You just take it off after a few seconds, apologize profusely, then run out before he can give you detention," Ron said.

"Like I'll be _that_ lucky," she muttered under her breath. Snape suddenly burst into the room, causing Ron to shove the handcuffs quickly towards her, and she stuffed it in her pocket, dreading with all her heart at what she was about to do.

Potions went on reasonably well. Snape had them work alone on their potions, saying they should learn to not depend on others, and pointedly looked at Neville when saying this, who blushed bright pink. Hermione finished hers correctly, as always, and looked behind her to see how Harry and Ron were faring. Their potions were the same off grey as hers. _Good for them._ Abruptly turning his head towards her, Ron nodded to her, signaling that now would be the best time to spill something. She groaned and looked at the supplies in front of her. What could she spill?

"Class, please bottle your potions and leave them at my desk," Snape barked. Hermione hastily bottled and labeled her potion and put it on his desk and rushed to her desk to clean up. All of a sudden, she heard a shattering of breaking glass. Everyone turned to look at Hermione, who had completely on accident, knocked over a vial of dragon's blood, the green silvery liquid spilling over the table and pooling on the ground.

"Miss Granger! Ten points from Gryffindor for your clumsiness! Stay behind and clean that up!" Snape roared. Hermione glared at Harry and Ron, who only gave her goofy smiles and the thumbs up sign. _They're so dead._

As she wiped up the dragon's blood, she thought rapidly about what she was about to do. _This is insane; he'll kill me._ At least, she hoped not. She quickly repaired the broken vial, replaced it on the shelf. Taking deep breaths, she put one handcuff ring around her left wrist with a soft click, placed that hand in her pocket, and walked up to Professor Snape's desk.

_Merlin's beard, what does that girl want?_ Snape thought as he looked up incredulously at her, his eyes telling her to say what she needed to say and then to leave as quickly as possible, so he could be rid of her presence for the rest of the day.

"Yes?" She seemed to be acting quite odd, more than usual.

"Sir? I'd, um, like to apologize for knocking over the dragon's blood," she stuttered out.

"As you should, Miss Granger. It was idiotically clumsy of you, but I wouldn't expect any more from you otherwise," he snapped. Hermione literally felt the hairs on her neck rise; that had stung.

"Well, Professor, I should think you'd be a little more grateful that I actually apologized," she replied, offended.

"Such courtesies are not worth you, Miss Granger," he returned coolly. _All right, that's it,_ thought Hermione angrily. _Get this dare over with._ And she stretched out her left hand, grabbed his arm, and snapped the other handcuff ring around his right wrist.

Several thoughts immediately blasted into Snape's brain. One, _What the hell is she doing grabbing my hand?_ Two, _What is this metal thing around our wrists?!_ Three, _Oh shit._ He looked in shock at Hermione, who was standing across the desk from him, visibly shaking, her lips white and her jaw clenched.

"Miss Granger, remove this contraption at once!" Snape barked, jerking on it for emphasis. He really had no idea what it was, but they were chained together, and he did not like it in the least. He watched Hermione fumble with his side of the contraption around his wrist, trying to unlock or undo a catch of some sort. Her finger pads brushed gently over his hand and wrist, sending him weird tingling chills down his arm._ Strange. _

"Miss Granger, what is taking so long?" he said impatiently, as she was now yanking on the handcuffs, her eyes growing wider with fear by the second. _Idiot girl, she will pay for this. _

"I can't," she managed to rasp out softly.

"You _what_?" He hadn't really heard her clearly, and hoped he had mistaken what he'd heard.

"I can't get it off," she repeated, looking up into his eyes and seeing her death sentence through the fury and embarrassment building in his dark eyes that were piercing into her skull.

"WHAT?!"

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A/N: You like? Eh? J Review and tell me what you think, and let me know if you have title ideas! –The Grim


	2. What Just Happened?

A/N: Ah, wonderful positive reviews from all! So far only a few suggestions for titles though… Maybe more creativity once you read this chapter. Ah, handcuffs are a totally awesome excuse to get Hermione and Severus to snog...Teehee! ;) Enjoy!

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Snape couldn't believe the absolutely ridiculous situation he was in. He stood there for several minutes, trying to find some sense in his…their, predicament; he found nothing that could explain it. He'd actually never been more embarrassed in a long time. To have a student attached to you, especially one named Hermione Granger, did not happen very often. Not to _anyone_. But of course, his horrible luck did not leave him alone today, and now he was stuck to a student he most disliked, but adored at the same time. _Adored?_ _Now where did that come from?_ Snape was a logical person, he knew there was a reason or explanation behind everything, but this? It wasn't at all likely that he liked Miss Granger, not in the least. But, her contagious curiosity, and her will to learn and understand Potions, a subject hated by most, was, special to him. She was the one person he taught that actually listened with genuine interest and rapt attention. It made him feel quite respected and important. More so than he already knew he was.

"Professor?" Snape was snapped out of his tangent to the questioning eyes of his student, Miss Granger, who was clearly waiting as patiently as she dared for him to help her figure out what they were going to do.

"Silly girl, you haven't even tried to unlock it magically?" he exclaimed exasperatedly. "And Flitwick always said charms were your strength, but apparently not. _Alohamora!_' Nothing, the handcuffs didn't unlock. "Damn…"

"Sir, I would appreciate it if you didn't insult me," she said defensively.

"Well, Miss Granger, I wasn't aware I actually had to be _nice_ to anyone, particularly _you_," delivering a snapping return right back into her face.

"Well then you'll pardon me for saying this to you," she snapped, her temper rising. "Why don't you bloody _bugger off!?_" Gasping, she clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. Snape was stunned; Miss Granger, one of the most polite and respectful students he had, just basically told him to sod off. _Maybe there is more to Miss Granger than I know,_ he thought to himself. _No excuse, however._

"Fifteen points for rudely addressing a teacher, and another thirty for handcuffing yourself to me, and forty-five points to you if you can get this ridiculous thing off!"

"Excuse me, Professor?" she squeaked.

"I believe that your ears are still in perfect capability of hearing, Miss Granger," he smirked at her.

"It's just, not, like, you, to, give points _back_," Hermione pressed.

"I think I am perfectly aware of my personality and my habits, unlike you," he snapped. _What is with this girl?_

"I would be considering that a compliment, if I were you, and while you're still listening, hear this: you are a brilliant and wonderful teacher that anyone with any brains would want to learn from," she finished, out of breath for some peculiar reason. She felt queasy from all that she'd said. How on earth would he respond? She decided to not to let him. "What I'm trying to say is, is that…I'd like to be your apprentice," she rushed out quickly, and turned her head, positively red with embarrassment.

"Is that the reason you did, _this_?" His eyes passed over the handcuffs, fingering the chain with his hand. Hermione couldn't help but realize how long, smooth, and graceful those hands were. Oh no. She couldn't tell him about the daring challenge! She, Ron, and Harry would be so dead.

"Um…yes. Yes, I, um…yeah," she finished miserably.

"And are you quite serious about this apprentice business? Be cause if you're not, you'll be here anyway when I give you a life sentence of detention," he asked, eyeing her pointedly. _Is that what I said?! Oh dear,_ thought Hermione. _I didn't really mean to say that out loud!_

"Yes, sir," she said meekly.

"Is it something you feel strongly about?" he inquired, sounding curious.

"Yes," she said much more confidently, nodding her head.

"Well, _if_ you somehow find a way to undo this contraption-"

"Handcuffs," she corrected automatically.

"_Handcuffs,_" he continued, glaring daggers at her, "then I will consider apprenticing you, or, just have you be an assistant," he said carefully. _What the hell am I saying? Why am I agreeing to this?_ _Because you desperately want to share your knowledge with someone who will care,_ a little voice whispered inside his head. He sighed inwardly.

"I suppose the best way to handle this is to go to the Headmaster by way of the fireplace. I dare say I would not be caught dead in front of the entire school and staff handcuffed to you," he said, humor twinkling in his eyes. Hermione didn't think his eyes _could_ twinkle, let alone with any good humor.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Professor," she said coolly. And as they made their way to the fireplace on the other end of the classroom, they bumped into each other several times, not coordinated at all. Who would be if you were handcuffed to someone else? Particularly Snape, whose tall height becoming more obvious compared to her petite body of only five feet five inches. He was quite gentle and polite in his actions, considering the bind they were in. The light accidental touches of their bodies sent little tingles throughout her body. Was she just vulnerable? Maybe.

"Dumbledore's office," Snape said very clearly, and they squished after each other into the green fire.

Snape really didn't want to have Dumbledore see him like this handcuffed to Hermione Granger, but he was the only person capable to keep this quiet and help them. After all, he was used to strange situations. _That happen to be just as or stranger than he is,_ Snape grumbled. As they crawled out of the fireplace, dusting themselves off as best they could, they were greeted by a familiar voice.

"Ah, Severus! Good to see you! And Hermione Granger as well?" Dumbledore greeted them from his desk, his eyes wrinkling in unquenchable amusement.

"Headmaster, I would prefer you refrained from your usual ridiculous comments, we are in quite a predicament now as it is," Snape growled.

"And what predicament might that be?" Dumbledore asked good-humoredly.

"This!" Snape practically shouted, holding up his arm to show the handcuffs linking Hermione and himself together by the wrists.

"And how did this happen?" Dumbledore seemed on the verge of laughing out loud, but his face was only showed a faint smile of concern.

"Ask _her_," Snape spat, indicating a very embarrassed Hermione at his side. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I-I just, well, I was, um, dared to handcuff myself to Snape," she said, her voice trailing off until it was barely audible.

"I see," Dumbledore said, acting like he had heard her perfectly, whether he really had or he was just pretending. Snape, thankfully, had not heard her, although it was suprising that he didn't. Maybe he was tuning out anything she said. Either way Hermione was very discomfited, despite the fact that it was Dumbledore seeing them like this, as opposed to her friends.

"Well? Aren't you going to get this off of us?" Snape snapped impatiently.

"No," Dumbledore said simply.

"WHAT?!" Snape could not control his outrage at this old man who played with your mind like he always knew everything.

"I can't, but I know who would," he replied, unfathomed, and without another word disappeared. "I will be back very soon, make yourselves comfortable," said his voice from nowhere, and a platter of treats appeared on a coffee table along with a two-person, or, more affectionately, a loveseat couch. _I'll kill that, that…_ He could not even begin to call Dumbledore anymore than a meddling old fool. A silence followed.

"Miss Granger, I would like to sit down, and I cannot do that unless you come with me," Snape breathed angrily.

"Oh, of course, _sir._ Anything for you, _sir,_" she replied hotly, but smiling sweetly at him.

"Don't use that tone with me, Granger," he growled as they sat down.

"What tone?" _The innocent puppy face. God is this just sick._

"You know what I mean…" he trailed off warningly.

"No, Professor, I really don't." _Ha! He thinks he can do this to me! Fat chance! _

"Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about, young lady!" he hissed, their faces coming very close as they leered at each other.

"What are you, my mother?" _This is really quite amusing._

"No I am not!" _This girl is impossible!_

"You know, Professor, you really shouldn't think about yourself all the time. Once in a while, you should take your mind off of your own damn self and start thinking about what other people might need, like me, in this situation. You ever think of that?" _My god is she being bold._

"Three points for harassing a teacher," Snape barked.

"Is that all you can do?" Hermione shouted back. For some reason all the rage that she had held inside against Snape for so long was bubbling over and spewing out of control from her lips. She was scaring herself at her own daring.

"How dare you argue with a teacher and superior!" Snape was treading on thin wire, and he knew it. His sarcasm and coolness fallen.

"How dare you treat me like a insignificant piece of dirt under your feet!" Hermione retorted furiously. She was stubborn, and she would not back down. She had had enough with Professor Snape. She forgot he was a teacher, a very tall, dark, and scary one at that.

"Well," he replied, trying to regain his calm coolness and catch her by surprise, "I'm afraid that is a stated fact in my book." _Smack!_ Snape looked in horror at Hermione, whose hand had just slapped him across the face. Hermione in turn looked in horror at his face, realizing what she'd just done. Snape without thinking grabbed her wrists and shoved her against the couch, fuming. Hermione thought for a brief second, with his body pinning her against the couch, that he would strike her. But all he did was glower at her, hesitant to hit her. _Good._

"Oh good, Severus, you're speeding up the process." Snape lurched backwards like he had just been stung, but he couldn't go very far and the handcuffs bit into their wrists as he shot backwards as far away from Hermione as possible.

"What process?" Hermione answered nervously, a little out of breath.

"The process of getting, these, ah, handcuffs, off your wrists," he explained calmly.

"What do we have to do? What ever it is, let's get it over with," Snape growled, standing up and tugging Hermione with him.

"You have to kiss her."

"WHAT?! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE… You can't be serious," Snape stared at Dumbledore, disbelieving. Hermione was now very afraid.

"From my sources, two talented young men named Fred and George Weasley-"

"Them? Oh Merlin, not them!" Hermione squeaked, knowing full well the potential consequences of wearing an 'experiment' of theirs.

"Yes, Hermione. These, handcuffs, is that what you call them? Yes, handcuffs. They informed me that they are one product of theirs known as the 'Love Chain' and it is a way to put a young couple together, and the only way to get them off is to kiss each other, ah, quite passionately, and then the handcuffs will simply vanish after a period of time," he finished to look at their horrified faces. "Another use of a muggle artifact, no doubt the Weasley twins acquired such a thing from their father."

"There must be another way, Albus," Snape said, almost pleadingly. _Damn. The last thing I want to do is kiss Hermione Granger._

"Yes, Headmaster. There has to be," Hermione added. _Oh, why is this happening to me? The last thing I want to do is kiss Professor Snape. _

"I'm afraid that's your only choice," Dumbledore said, trying to console them, but Hermione thought she saw laughter in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. "You may begin, and I will let you know when the handcuffs have vanished."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked warily.

"You have to continue the kiss until the handcuffs are gone completely." _Damn,_ thought Snape. _Damn,_ Hermione cursed inwardly.

"Very well. Miss Granger, let's just get this done," Snape coughed uncomfortably, and suddenly his lips were on hers, his hand on her neck.

Hermione did not even have time to prepare herself for what she thought would be a bitter taste and stiffness and every other nightmare you could think of to happen with a bad kiss, but it never came. The kiss had begun so suddenly, but afterwards, it was not hasty at all. His sweet and surprisingly tantalizing lips caressed hers gently, and his other arm came to slide around her waist.

Snape had thought it would be the most horrible kiss of his life. He was proved wrong. As he had leaned down to kiss her, he had caught a brief glimpse of her, he realized, very full and soft-looking lips. At first she had stiffened in surprise, but then she relaxed into it. He wondered how long they still had to kiss. He wondered why he was actually enjoying this. _No! Stop thinking such ridiculous things! This is just to get the handcuffs off, nothing more…Right? _He wondered how many other boys or men had kissed Hermione Granger. He found himself resolving to desperation; he hadn't kissed, well, anyone, in a long time, and the desire clouded over his usual sense. He was shocked to find her tongue suddenly caress his bottom lip, wanting to enter his mouth, which he opened after a moment of hesitation. He was instantly pleased. She tasted quite good, and she seemed a natural. She slowly began to back up, pulling him along with her, their lips still locked. She clenched the front of his robes and fell backwards onto the couch, pulling him with her and wrapping her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Snape felt the heat rising to his skin where her hands and arms touched his neck, and her fingers playing in his hair made the roots of his hair prickle and stand on end. His hands stroked her back, then buried into her hair, which, bushy tendrils from a distance, were actually soft luscious curls that smelled really good, like some herbal shampoo. He was quite uncomfortable leaning completely over, so he attempted to adjust himself down to his knees. He became vaguely aware that they didn't seem to be hampered at all in this situation.

Dumbledore coughed lightly from his desk, where he had been idly popping lemon drops into his mouth. Hearing him, they broke the kiss, which had lasted for several long pain-staking seconds than they had both thought. Moving quickly away from each other, they suddenly realized that the handcuffs were already gone, and had been for quite some time. Snape coughed nervously and Hermione turned beet red, and Dumbledore simply kept chewing.

"Lemon drop?" he asked innocently, motioning to the little glass bowl with rapidly disappearing lemon drops. Snape was so frustrated with that, that, old codger, he felt like he wanted to wring his neck. No, he _really_ wanted to hurt that man. _Damn, he is impossible._

"Albus," he growled, seething with rage and embarrassment.

"Well, I do believe the handcuffs were, are, quite gone," he announced, looking over the top of his glasses at the both of them, watching in laughter as Snape shifted nervously clearing his throat with white lips, to Hermione, who was somewhere between amazed and shocked an confused, with a face like a red pepper. "So I suggest that you, Professor Snape, go back to your classroom, where a class is waiting for you with McGonagall keeping an eye on them, and for you, Hermione, to go to your next class, where you have been excused for your absence."

And without a word, Hermione and Snape, this time staying as far away from each other as possible, flooed back to Snape's office.

"Uh, sir?" Hermione asked once they were in his office. Snape seemed to be quite distant, but she was hoping she was just imagining what had just happened. Snape was too busy plotting and cursing. _Goddammit, Dumbledore is going to pay for his little trick, no doubt about that. What just happened? First Miss Granger handcuffs herself to me, and then we had to kiss to get rid of them. We…kissed. I kissed a student. _He looked in her general direction._ What does she want now? _

"What, Miss Granger? My time is precious, and you're wasting it," he snapped.

"What just…happened?" she asked quietly, so many conflicting emotions dancing across her face. Snape realized how easy her emotions could be read, just by looking at her face. _She's not very good at concealing anything whatsoever._ _Typical of a over-emotional hormonal teenage girl who doesn't know which way is left, no matter how book-smart and how talented she is. _

"Apparently Miss Granger, from my standpoint, you were unable to hold in your desire to _handcuff_ yourself to your Potions professor, and the irony of the situation required us to kiss in order to remove it, but I think, we, ah, did more than what was necessary," he finished. Hermione smiled sheepishly and turned slightly pink in her cheeks. Suddenly he was very angry with her.

"Miss Granger, I am assuming that you are mature enough, being a seventh year student, to understand that nothing was shared by our, intimacy, and nothing will ever come of it. Do you understand me?" he said sternly, eyes boring into hers. She looked away.

"Yes, Professor," she said quietly.

"Very good, Granger. You may leave my presence, which would be the most kindest thing you could do for me," and he made towards his desk to gather some papers before he faced his class of third years.

"What about my proposal, Professor? The…apprenticeship?" she asked uncertainly, ignoring his comment. He gave a loud, collected sigh.

"I said I will _consider _it, Miss Granger," he said impatiently. He began to walk to the door to greet his twerp-load of third years. He paused at the door to look back at Hermione, who was still standing in the same spot, clearly still baffled by the whole situation that he was more than willing to forget ever happened. "Miss Granger, I believe I dismissed you, now _leave_," he growled, and she scooted meekly out the door ahead of him, ignoring the questioning whispers of the third years as she exited the classroom. Snape took a deep breath before slamming the door open for his grand entrance. _Here we go again,_ he grumbled and sauntered out of his office to do what he was here to do: his job.

------------------

A/N: So sorry it took so long! My chapters are going to be on average 3,000 words long, so you can imagine, with homework and school and parents and everything else, how long this took me to shell out. Read and review, and check out my C2 community! –The Grim


	3. I'm Suffocating Here!

**A/N: **Hey everybody! I've started updating my Love Actually sequel, and I think I owe it to the people who like this fic, (which still needs a title, erg, gotta work on that) to update again. I know; it's been FOREVER. But here you go anyway. I also found out I made **myself** laugh when I went back and reread it.

-

The next day brought much in the way of embarrassment and anger and confusion for Hermione Granger. She could not believe how her dare had backfired so horribly. _Oh, Harry and Ron will pay dearly for this._ She was so furious with them; she could feel crackling fire in her stomach. She was sure she would never live another day by the way things went the previous day, but miraculously she walked free. Only her pride and confidence was injured that day. She had spent the entire night convincing herself that the bastard forced himself on her and wouldn't let go of her, and she had to comply or otherwise suffocate. Hermione had thoroughly complied a logical explanation of everything. She had had to pull him to the couch because she had to sit down, or she'd faint, and Snape took that the wrong way and ended up practically on top of her. She shuddered at the image. And her putting her arms around him? So she could keep herself from falling, of course. All this she was sure of, and if there was any doubt betraying her in the back of her mind, she shoved it away forcefully.

Getting dressed quickly, she grabbed her book bag and made her way to the Great Hall, hoping to get there quickly enough so she could sit somewhere away from Harry and Ron. She really did not feel like speaking to them right now. Wait. Scratch that. She didn't feel like speaking to them _ever again_.

"Hermione! Wait up!" two familiar voices yelled behind her, which she chose to ignore and walked even faster. Unfortunately, Harry and Ron were both very fast, especially if they were running deadbolt towards her. She heard them coming up behind her and deftly sidestepped them as they ran past. Their momentum carried past her and straight into none other than Draco Malfoy and his cronies.

"Potter! Weasel! Watch where you're bloody going!" Draco hissed, shoving them off of him. The students around them began to stop and watch, sensing a fight.

"Sorry, Malfoy, didn't see you there," Harry replied darkly.

"Then you have no use of these, Potter," Draco snapped, and grabbed Harry's glasses from his face and threw them towards the wall. Harry punched Draco square in the jaw and waited for the smash of glass. Ron ducked a swing from Goyle and slammed into Crabbe's stomach, knocking all three of them down.

Harry's glasses came floating gracefully across the air in front of his face to rest back on top of his nose. Before he and any of the other students surrounding them knew what was going on, an arm snaked around his and Ron's and yanked them away, leaving the piled Crabbe and Goyle and Draco lying there with his mouth bleeding steadily and the huge crowd of alarmed students.

Harry and Ron where pulled into the nearest door, which happened to lead to the girl's bathroom. Once in they were slammed against the wall and both alternately slapped on the face.

"What do you think you were doing!" Hermione yelled at them both, causing more shock to creep onto their faces. They had no answer, especially when a very angry young woman was yelling at them and banning all escape.

"Mione…" Ron started.

"Don't you 'Mione' me! You both are going to pay for what you did!"

"Sorry Hermione," Harry said sheepishly.

"You're not going to tell on us are you?" Ron asked.

"I won't, but you can be sure that Malfoy will," she replied curtly.

"How was the dare, Hermione?" Harry asked, changing the subject. Hermione looked at him as though she could smite him on the spot with her fiery gaze, which caused Harry to cower slightly.

"Does that mean you won't tell us?" Ron asked sheepishly.

"To hell with both of you! Do you have _any idea_ what I went through?" she shouted at them, looking very foreboding, but it was very comical. Her tall friends smiled at her pathetic attempt to look intimidating.

"No, Mione, we don't. Could you please inform us of your devastating account?" Ron smiled playfully. Hermione raised a foot as if to kick him, but stopped midway and gave up. She was red in the face and biting her lip; they could tell she was thinking very hard about something. Finally, she sighed deeply.

"It completely backfired." Harry and Ron looked at each other, now very concerned and confused. What could have gone wrong?

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. "The handcuffs worked didn't they?"

"Oh yeah, they 'worked' all right," she spat out angrily. "Tell me, Ron, did you know why George and Fred gave you those handcuffs and their real use?"

"I dunno; I just thought they were some Muggle thing they picked up from Dad."

"Yes, but do you forget that your brothers like to _play_ with things?" she glowered.

"Oh," was all Ron could say to that.

"You think they did something to the handcuffs?" Harry asked, a bit worried.

"Oh, nothing. They just made it into what they called a 'Love Chain', according to what Dumbledore found out from them, so you couldn't get them off unless you...kissed...the…other…person…" she gritted out angrily, turning red again. Harry and Ron said nothing for almost a full minute, staring at her, trying to compensate for their exploding brains, which were attempting to process all of that information; some of it very strange, scary, and downright _wrong_.

"You…you, had to…" Ron spluttered.

"Kiss him, yes. I had to kiss…that-"

"Horrible snarky evil bastard!" Harry spat out, finishing her sentence. She angrily stomped out of the girl's bathroom, with Harry and Ron following close behind her. Without warning Harry tackled Hermione and squeezed her in a tight embrace, with Ron following suit, so Hermione was now sandwiched in between.

"We're so sorry, Mione," Ron said sympathetically. Hermione only gasped.

"Well, well, well," simpered a silky voice from behind them. "My goodness, Miss Granger. You certainly have enough admirers to keep you occupied I dare say." Ron and Harry immediately let go of her, leaving her gasping for air, and stood protectively in front of her, blocking Snape's way to Hermione.

"Good evening, sir," Harry answered carefully. Snape straightened to his full height, with was still substantially more Harry, but not as much as it used to be.

"I see Miss Granger is incapable of defending herself, so she allows her love-sick pets to do her work. Very clever. Pity it won't work," Snape sneered.

"I am capable of handling my own problems and life, _Professor_," Hermione interrupted boldly, pushing her way in front of her friends to face him.

"Then I suppose you can also handle detention with me for an undetermined length of time with considerable…ease? Am I right, Miss Granger?" Snape replied coolly. Harry and Ron blanched; Hermione inwardly swore.

"Without a doubt in my mind, Professor," Hermione answered coolly, her face betraying nothing; she hoped. "In the meantime, Professor, you should stay away from, well, lets say, anything that might, _tie you up_. You know what I mean, don't you sir?" Hermione smiled prettily, while color flushed Snape's cheeks considerably. Harry and Ron couldn't help but snigger slightly.

"Do not cross me, Miss Granger, or you will sorely regret it," Snape replied, not as threatening as he'd hoped. But after all, how could one be threatening when your pale face suddenly blooms into a very seeming shade of pink? And without another word, Snape stalked away, his robes billowing after him.

"That was…interesting," Harry stated after a moment.

"Hermione, I still can't believe you had to-"

"I _know_ what I had to do Ron! I was the one who had to be the receiving end of it, not you!" Hermione interrupted dejectedly.

"Mione?" Harry began.

"What!"

"Was it bad?" Hermione stared at him for a second, not sure what he meant.

"You don't need to ask her, Harry. You can just tell right off the bat that it was probably the same as kissing Draco's ass," Ron interjected. Harry caught on.

"Yuck. He probably had horrible breath too, and his lips were probably all cracked, and he probably didn't even know what he was doing. I mean, seriously, he probably has never kissed any woman before except his own mother!" Harry cringed, and this caused Ron and Harry to burst out laughing.

"Cut it out!" Hermione shouted suddenly. They abruptly stopped laughing.

"Why are you _defending_ him?" Ron seethed. "Are you insane?" Harry nodded.

"No! You just have no right to say those things!" Hermione argued.

"Oh? So I guess _you_ are going to tell us that he was the greatest you've ever had and he swept you off your feet?" Harry accused her teasingly. But instead of laughing with him, she blushed profusely.

"Are you saying-" Ron started, flabbergasted.

"I don't want to talk about it," she answered simply.

"Hermione…" they chided her in unison.

"I don't want to talk about it!" she stuttered quickly, and started walking again. They silently followed behind her, and got the point when she pointedly sat next to Neville and Ginny. Harry shrugged it off; he frankly wanted to never have to think about what they just heard ever again, for it was too wrong for words. But Ron, usually very enthusiastic about food, was distracted and only nibbled.

Long in the running had been Ron's crush on Hermione. Of course, he had never really acted upon, suspecting that their arguments over the years were a clear indicator that it would not work. Plus, he could just tell, with a slightly jealous air, that Harry had a better relationship with Hermione. It had been that way from the very beginning when they first met. And with all these things in mind, Ron was quite hopeless of ever gaining Hermione's interest.

But this new information, the perpetual failure of their dare for Hermione, wronged his poor innocent mind, made him feel very guilty, and a _very_ strange feeling of _jealousy_? He didn't know why the green monster was seeping into his mind and poisoning his thoughts and feelings. But yet there it was, and the very idea that he was jealous of the _Potions Professor_ scared him. But seeing Hermione blush like that, when Harry had joked about Snape "sweeping" her off her feet… He didn't know whether to just dismiss it as her embarrassment of the whole matter altogether, or if she was actually agreeing and did not want to actually admit that she liked kissing Snape. Nor did he know whether to go over and punch Snape or throw up. Either way, the situation was a lot for him to handle. How Harry was handling this he had no idea. Ron had always admired Harry, and thought, as he glanced over at Harry laughing with Ginny about something, that if he could conceal what he felt, or just block it, he could too.

Harry smiled as Ron looked over at him, and gave a small wave when he saw Ron was distracted. Ron snapped out of his reverie and started to tuck in. _That's more like it_, Harry thought to himself. He had noticed how quiet Ron was, and no doubt this whole dare matter was really making him think. Harry knew without a doubt that Ron really liked her; but he was going to kill himself if he didn't do anything about it. It was their seventh year, literally Ron's last chance to try to reconcile his past with Hermione and start something anew, possibly a relationship beyond the boundaries of "best friend". But Ron had been turned off and hurt considerably when she had gone to the Yule Ball back in fourth year with Victor Krum. Harry also was aware that Ron was insanely, (what he could tell, which was a lot) jealous ofhim and Hermione, who seemed to get along famously, who everyone thought would be together in due time. Harry supposed that they _did_ have a good relationship, but the point was that he wanted to _keep it that way_. In no way was he romantically interested in Hermione; he might have been several years ago, but Hermione was not the girl that occupied his mind at the moment. He hoped that Ron would figure this out on his own, and hopefully do something about it, or realize that what he felt was not really genuine, and let it go. Feeling he had been thinking too much, and about something other than what he really needed to sort through, that thing being Hermione and her strange dare "experience", Harry turned back to Ginny to talk about Quidditch, something he knew they could both talk about and would take his mind off of Hermione's dare and Ron's predicament.

-

Snape was _not_ looking forward to having to give detention with Hermione multiple times, but he felt revenge was within his grasp, and if he couldn't box Dumbledore over the head, he would proceed to make Hermione's life miserable by making her serve detention with him. Of course, he felt like while he made her do lots of work, he wanted to test her true potion-making ability. He was curious about the bounds of her knowledge, and, her skill of using that knowledge and applying it to actual potion making. The latter he was sure was meager and pathetic. He was also convinced that she would do everything in her power to avoid him while doing the detentions, of which he was eternally grateful. He wanted nothing but to just bark orders to her and give the occasional criticism and watch the show. No other kind of communication besides him shouting commands and her scurrying around, (which he knew she would do indefinitely, being a good student in her very blood and impossible to avoid) obeying. He supposed he could just have her make all the potions he needed to restock for Madame Pomfrey and his own private stores. Would save him some work. One thing not very many people knew about Professor Snape was the fact that he could, he would rather be lazy and lax about anything related to students (except making them miserable) and spend his time doing things he thought were much more productive and enjoyable for his part.

This then reminded of the matter and way of how he became Potions Professor, which caused to grimace at the memory. Mainly, it was because Dumbledore wanted him under his fingertips, to manipulate and watch while he spied for the Light. He was sure that in Dumbledore's deranged mind, he was some kind of son to him, in a very twisted and weird way, of which he did not welcome, and never would. But he supposed if he had not been hired, he would have been still on the Dark Side, moving up to conjure potions of devastating proportions for the Dark Lord, as well as his main duties as interrogator of prisoners and captured people. Once again, he grimaced as even more horrible memories of his past flooded in without merit and his wanting. He angrily chucked his book that he was reading across the room, where it thudded against the wall and landed conveniently on the top of the bookshelf, causing him to smirk with satisfaction. He decided he'd return to those dratted essays that were waiting on his desk. He had, obviously, assigned an essay the first essay for his lovely NEWT students, (_yeah, lovely my ass..._) two parchments long discussing the properties of wormwood and the most advanced uses for it in healing potions, which he knew for a fact was barely discussed in their NEWT Potions book.

Vainly trying to be enthusiastic about grading the essays, he brought over his candle to his desk (he had only one candle lit in his office, giving off just barely enough dim light to see by) and sat down and picked up his quill and red ink vial, set the vial down to his left, and held onto the quill as he gazed at the essay at the top of the pile. He dropped his quill, which fell unceremoniously to the floor under his desk, and he swore out loud. The first essay on top was none other than Miss Granger's, written in her very neat and looping letters. _Why must I be tortured so?_ He muttered darkly to himself.

Seeing her paper had ultimately sent his thoughts in a whirlwind of visions of the previous day. The handcuffs, and the kiss… All of it came flooding back, when he had previously shoved into the back of his mind next to all his other memories that he wanted to forget. Except, this one came back, and in full force, so vivid Snape had to check the room to make sure that Miss Granger was really not in the room. He could not escape these thoughts, so he had no choice but to dwell over them until he could figure out what to do with them.

First of all, the kiss was nothing he had expected. After all, Miss Granger was only, what…seventeen? Maybe eighteen? Either way, she was young, hormonal, emotional, and strangely capable of kissing. She seemed to know what she was doing, despite being surprised. He had somewhat come upon her without warning; he had just wanted to get it over with. _No you didn't, stop kidding yourself, you stupid bastard._ _You knew the handcuffs were gone after less than ten seconds. How else could you have put your right arm around her waist without twisting her arm?_ He silently berated himself and realized that they had kissed for almost _two_ minutes after the handcuffs were gone. Now, _why_ had he not just pulled away once he knew they were gone? _Because you hadn't kissed a woman in years, and you, being a needy bastard, decided you'd take advantage of the situation and reap of the perk that came with it: a make-out session with a young woman. _He slammed his fist on his desk in frustration. Why had he done that? He really was a needy bastard, and apparently a goddamn desperate one at that, prolonging a kiss with a student, a Muggleborn, named Hermione Granger, whom he despised with a passion. But what kind of passion was he talking himself into? He'd never married, of course, and of course he had been intimate with a couple women from time to time in his younger years, with all having a bad outcome or simply because he was supposed to seduce them for information. So here he was, a much older man, kissing a _student_ roughly twenty-four hours ago, longer than necessary.

Then today, when he came upon the Muggleborn herself being squished to death (he wished) by Potter and Weasley, Hermione had made a very suggestive and provocative comment about him staying away from things that might _tie him up_; she was definitely talking about the handcuff incident from the day before, and before he could compose himself, he had blushed, he was sure. That, in itself, was more embarrassing than Dumbledore's interruption of their kiss, for he had been quite, occupied, and had forgotten there was someone else in the room. Oh, she would pay for that dearly. If he was unsure or doubted anything else he thought or did in the past twenty-four hours, the one thing he was sure of was that she would pay.

Sighing deeply, he tried to calm his racing heart, which he hadn't realized was beating so fast, and stripped off his outer robes down to his shirt and pants, because for some reason he was hot and somewhat sweaty. Wiping his forehead, he found his whole face was flushed. Cursing, he picked up his quill again and began to read Hermione's essay, hoping he could find something wrong and give her a lower grade. He didn't, and angrily raked an E out on the top of the paper and practically threw the essay on the floor. Shaking his head to clear his mind of Miss Granger, he moved on to the next essay, happily scrolling a D on the top of it, feeling slightly better. _No more thoughts of Miss Granger._ He smirked. That was the way it should be.

-

**A/N: **Freaking crap! About 3,400 words long, not including the author notes! It has taken me **days** to write this, and I hope nobody falls asleep while reading it! Yes, for the HP/HG shippies, I'm sorry. For the RW/HG shippies, nothing but Ron anguish. For the HG/SS shippies, ROCK ON! **FYI**-See if you guys can guess what "other woman" Harry has on his mind, and DON'T forget to make some title suggestions! Anyway, if you make your way through without nodding off, please review!


	4. As the Clock Struck One

**A/N:** Hello all! Thank you for the reviews. I know, all those who had been watching my updates are probably moved on, but I am glad _somebody_ found this. Hopefully I can keep updating regularly, but as you know, it has to be in utmost secret and stealth, and these chaps are on average 3k words…my point exactly. I really hope I am keeping up a plot that is not entirely boring. A few comments:

Ninde Annare-Worth it, eh? Perhaps. Lucky for you, this story now has a freaking title! (Yay!) As usual, another update for your enjoyment.

Werecat-You know, you should not be reading with this if you are not a fan of HGSS, I mean really…And by the way, there IS 4 fanfics out there (searched and found them myself) for Lucius and Molly Weasley. So take that back, missie. Can't compare that anymore. If you're gonna get mad at me, _don't _read it!

Dragonero-Do you mean "caring" or "sharing"? Child, you gotta watch those typos, they're confusing me! (Ack)

Momsangel-Love the drama. Exactly what I would do.

Wacko the Sane-Yes, it does seem like it's leaning towards LDCFAP, but I will assure you, I will do my best to add extra twists so it is varied. Also, Harry's glasses, when thrown off his face, were zoomed back to his head by a spell performed by Hermione. Not really his fault for faulty eyewear.

Natsuyori-You seem to be following my every move (for both of my fics). That's cool, I'm glad you're keeping up, and I can always use the reviews! (And I will point out it is not Snape who is saying Rock on, it is me!)

For everybody, I now have a title! Now you can read and review a Titled Fic!

**(0)(0)**

"Which one of you came up with the bloody idea?" Hermione retorted. The boys sheepishly looked at each other, and Harry raised his hand a little, defeated. "Then you're the victim for the next dare!" Hermione said evilly, and beckoned Ron over so they could converse. "He's lying, isn't he?" Ron started.

"No. It really was. I don't think I'd have ever thought of that. I was thinking you could fail an essay on purpose," he said, and Hermione just glared. "Sorry."

"Okay, now what do we want for Harry to do for a dare?" she said thoughtfully.

"It's gotta be something good," Ron replied eagerly.

"Really good." They looked at Harry, then at each other, nodded once, and turned towards Harry again after some brief whispering; they had the same idea.

"Ready for your dare?" Ron said, rubbing his hands together in glee. Harry shifted in his seat, dreading what might be coming, but nodded bravely.

"Your dare, is to take Ginny on a date!" Hermione said, her and Ron feeling this was very appropriate. Harry had always tried not to act like Ginny's undying love of him was getting to him, that she was younger and he was older, case closed. How wrong he was. They could tell he liked her a lot, but was way too nervous, the strange and uncomfortable relationship with Cho from previous years hanging over his conscience. "Well?" Harry was stark white.

"No…" he answered weakly. "You couldn't, you can't…" he said desperately, looking at both of them in absolute fear.

"Yes, we can," Hermione said gently, hoping Harry wasn't about to drop dead or something.

"Oh come off it, Harry," Ron blurted, "I _know_ and you know that you've liked my sis since sixth year. Admit it." Harry said nothing. "Thought so."

"Come on, Harry. This isn't even a dare if you think about it," Hermione said diplomatically. "It's more of a, well, forced opportunity." Ron nodded.

"Fine." Harry grumbled reluctantly. "But I don't like it, and I will get you guys back. This is way to cruel," and with that he stalked off to bed, trying to look very angry and terrified at the same time.

"He is psyched, you can tell," Ron said knowingly.

"Yeah, I could see the smile he was so desperately was trying to hide. It's a great excuse for him to ask her out when he's been too scared to," Hermione agreed. They discussed the finer details of what Harry would do, and agreed that it would be done on the upcoming Friday, which just so happened to be the very next day. Harry once again went pale when he realized he had absolutely no time to think about it, and went up to the boy's dorm without another word. Ron, saying he would go talk to him, followed him up shortly after. Hermione placed herself on the couch in front of the fire, and began to read.

An hour or so passed by, and Hermione yawned, stood, and looked up at the clock. The book fell with a thud on the floor, and she immediately dashed out the portrait door, swearing under her breath, her mind racing. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to serve detention with Professor Snape tonight…and almost every night after that, for what he described as "an undetermined length of time". _Bastard,_ she thought bitterly. She really did not want to go through with this.

She finally slowed, gasping for air from her bolt to his classroom, and paused in front of the door. _Why should I serve detention with him? Why did he suggest it anyway? He could have sent me to Filch or something…But he didn't. _She placed her hand on the door, praying she would live through the night, and pushed it open.

Snape looked up to see the door swinging open with its usual eerie creak. _Who on earth is disturbing me? _He really had no clue. The only people who willingly came to see him were Dumbledore and the teachers, and even the other teachers avoided coming to see him, at this time of night, in his own domain. Yes, his domain. It was the domain of a pathetically leaking and muggy classroom pathetically at the very bottom of the school. The irony that he, a world famous Potions Master, was reduced to this meager establishment, teaching young children an art they would never appreciate. _I appreciate it_, she thought.

He was further surprised when none other than Miss Granger stepped into the classroom, rather hesitantly, and stood there. She made no move to shut the door. He decided to say nothing, and see if she would go away.

"Sir?" came a soft voice from the other end of the room. He looked up expectantly, but still said nothing.

"I am here." This statement caused him to snort slightly in laughter. Really, did she think he was that thick?

"I am aware of your presence, Miss Granger," he said coolly, "and would appreciate it if you would leave. Goodnight." And with that he settled back down to grading more papers in another pile than the one on his desk, of third year papers.

"Sir," came the voice again, louder and more confident. "I am here for my detention." He froze. _Damn, damn, damn,_ he thought angrily, _did I really assign her to have her detention for her little "prank" with me? Why? _He didn't know.

"Very well. You can start by grading these papers. I want them all done." And he stood stiffly and vacated the seat behind his desk, and crossed to another table in the back of the room behind his desk, where he had some of his experiment equipment out. He was planning to make a potion, and was glad he would not have to grade essays anymore. "If you have any questions about the essays, I will be over here, but otherwise don't disturb me." She quickly went towards his desk, and Snape turned to begin his work, glad that she did not say anything more.

Hermione sank carefully into the large leather chair that was Professor Snape's perch in front of the classroom. It was quite comfortable, and she couldn't help but realize it smelled interesting: a sort of herbal and musky smell. It smelled good. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she set to work grading the essays. She felt some pride that he trusted her knowledge (not her, herself, of course) was enough to grade the essays, which was substantially better than the alternative, which was cleaning.

After grading about ten essays (they were short, or shorter, than what she had to write) she put the quill down and put her head in her hands to clear her mind. She hadn't realized how tired she was. She listened to the subdued movement of her Professor behind her, and couldn't resist a peek at what he was doing.

He was standing, hunched over his work, but still very graceful about it. His hair had fallen into his face, and he seemed to simply ignore it, which for some reason looked very, well, how could she put it, appealing? He wasn't constantly fidgeting and brushing his hair back, and she badly wanted to go over there (being a girl) and get his hair out of his face. But of course she resisted. She simply watched him work, completely fascinated. He had a certain way of moving, and with quick and deft precision, he measured out ingredients and added them to the cauldron with utmost care. She admired his ease and skill. Clearly he really was one of the greatest, maybe even _the_ greatest Potions Master in the UK, and maybe the world. But suddenly she noticed him reach out and measure out a vial of ground up dragon's tooth. She had guessed what the potion was already: a healing remedy for boils caused by the common hex, which was used by Madame Pomfrey often enough. And he was adding the wrong amount of the dragon's tooth. He was putting twice the amount needed, and that would in effect, not effect the performance of the potion, but would cause the drinker to be nauseated and come down with a high fever after the boils were gone, and, if not linked to the miscalculation of the potion, would kill them within a month if the proper anecdote was not found. She stood immediately and went towards him as fast as she could, hoping to stop him before he added the ground dragon's tooth, and make a horrible and deadly mistake.

"Professor!" she said loudly, and as he turned to confront her, she noticed for the first time how tired he looked. His eyes were now bloodshot from working around the hot fumes of the potion and he physically was drooping, and his hand was shaking. She swiftly grabbed the vial out of his hands.

"What are you doing, Miss Granger?" he barked angrily.

"Saving your ass, that's what," she replied hotly, and covered her mouth in horror for a second, and then without further ado, pitched the vile across the room, where it landed with a smash of glass.

"What the _bloody hell_ are you doing!" he roared. She quailed slightly under his tall figure.

"Like I said before, I was saving you from killing someone," she replied evenly, hoping if she stayed calm, he would.

"And why in Merlin's name would that be possible?" he said angrily, although his tone was lighter than previously.

"You were about to add nearly twice as much ground dragon's tooth as was necessary for that potion. You do know what wouldn't happened if you had?" Realization suddenly hit his face, and he stumbled backward, half in shock, half in exhaustion. Hermione instinctively grabbed his robes before he fell, and he yanked them away.

"Get your hands off me!" he snarled. But he was not very threatening as he staggered backwards and practically fell into his chair at his desk, knocking his ink well over and sending the essays and ink splattering everywhere. Hermione rushed over to him, but kept her distance, not wanting to anger him further. She finally understood.

"Professor, I order you go to bed immediately. You are exhausted and are punishing yourself horribly by working like this. You almost made a horrible mistake that would have cost a student their life. You are not in a fit state to be doing anything, physically or emotionally. Now I want you to lie down, and rest." She was surprised the nerve she had to say that.

"You, of all people, _do not order me around_," Snape gasped angrily. Ignoring him, Hermione grabbed his arm, pulled him up with considerable difficulty, and practically dragged him into his office. He was cursing the entire time, but complied, strangely, even though, even in this drained state, he could have thrown her off easily…but he didn't. Once in his office, she looked around wildly, wondering where his room was, or at least where a couch might be or something.

"Where is your room?" she hissed, dragging him closer to her, and he finally found the strength to shake her off.

"Miss Granger!" he spat. "You will not be dragging me around anywhere. I suggest you leave, before I hex you."

"For your information, if you were not so exhausted, you would have noticed that I took your wand out of your pocket a long time ago," Hermione said haughtily, and watched him quiver in anger.

"If you do not give me my wand back and leave this instant, I'll-"

"You'll what? Smite me where I stand?" she interrupted innocently, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"Damn right I will," Snape snarled.

"No you won't. You will going to bed," Hermione said firmly, brandishing her wand menacingly. Snape took a step back.

"Lead the way, Professor. I'm right behind you," Hermione said cheerfully, and as he turned slowly away, she glanced at the shelf on her right, where numerous vials sat on a bookcase, all alphabetized and labeled. Finding the one she was looking for, she grabbed it, slipped it into her pocket, and followed Snape as he walked through the opposite door to his bedchambers.

Hermione could not believe she had the nerve to do this; this man, dead tired, could still throttle her. And yet, he was complying…somewhat, and was leading her to the most private place he occupied: his bedroom. Now, for some reason, this made her feel jittery all over, and the goose bumps began crawling over her skin and filling her up inside with a kind of fiery and bubbling excitement. She didn't know why, but she was eager to see his bedchamber…what did it look like? She tried to imagine it in her head, and she came up with nothing but green and silver colored things everywhere…he was a Slytherin, after all, so it made sense he would have those colors in his room. The bedroom was probably very cold; no doubt he never had a fire going, and it was probably dark. It almost reminded her of this story she had read when she was younger. It was a story by Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_, and the grumpy and horrible man named Scrooge in it. She figured Snape was probably just like that; she certainly had enough evidence to prove it.

They finally came upon a grand mahogany door, and Snape reached out and placed his hand, palm down, on a brass square on the center of the door, and it opened. Hermione was impressed. It seemed very similar to the finger and eye scanners that are in some muggle buildings (or at least they _said_ they had such technology) that allowed only certain people entrance. When he dramatically swung open the door (for her benefit, she assumed) and stepped in, she froze in the door in complete surprise and wonder.

His room was not what she expected at all. There was not a single _hint_ of green and silver in the entire chamber. What she saw was a deep rich-colored mahogany (similar to the door) closet, a identical set of a dresser, three different enormous bookcases, a coffee table, a small desk, and chair. The bed was the same as the rest of the wooden furniture; it was a grand four-poster bed with curtains. There were several paintings on the wall, with one above the fireplace, and one on wall (that wasn't occupied by a bookcase). One she even recognized as _Starry, Starry Night_, by Van Gogh, which pleased her immensely. In the corner, there was a beautifully paned window and under was a plush window seat and several pillows. The colors of the room consisted of a deep maroon, a kind of obsidian black, and in some areas of the room were a few items that were a deep blue almost black, and creamy white almost yellow. His color choices were beautiful, but completely different from what she imagined. _He has really good taste,_ she murmured to herself thoughtfully.

He had already entered his walk-in closet and emerged, wearing black polyester pants and a simple black shirt. She had never seen him dressed so casual, let alone in _muggle_-like clothes. She finally took a step into the room, wisely keeping the door open, and after looking at the roaring fire in the grand fireplace, she almost cried out in joy; the hardwood flooring of his room was mostly covered by extremely soft plushy maroon rugs, so soft and palpable she could practically feel the texture of it even with her shoes on. He truly had very good taste, and she liked that.

"Why are you still standing there?" Snape asked indignantly, looking up over his reading glasses at her from where he was sitting in a very comfortable-looking black leather chair.

"Umm…" Hermione mumbled uncomfortably.

"Well? Go!" Snape snapped and returned to his book. But Hermione made no move. "Didn't you hear me, girl?" he said exasperatedly, staring her down. She shrugged.

"I suppose I did," she said non-committal, and continued. "But I said you were to _rest_…in bed, or in other words, s-l-e-e-p," she finished, and grimaced at her uncalled for rudeness. Snape said nothing for a minute, and then very slowly, got up, put his book away and walked over to his bed, opening the velvet curtains and laying down under his feather down blanket. Hermione just stared, and then suddenly remembered. "Drink this…all of it," she ordered, crossing the room and with much daring standing over him as he sat with his back propped up against his pillows. He smirked.

"Miss Granger." She looked at him suddenly very afraid. "I never thought I would ever see my mother again after she died…but I mustn't worry," his eyes glittered, "she's right in front of me."

"You are impossible!" Hermione blurted in annoyance. "Just drink the damn stuff!" And with that she shoved it in his hand, and, after he read the label, and approved, he downed it in one gulp, grimacing.

"I thought I ran out of that deep slumber potion, guess…not…" he trailed off, his eyes fluttering closed and he sank further into his bed, completely asleep. Hermione couldn't help but smile. He looked so…innocent (if _that_ was even possible) and vulnerable. Not able to help herself, she drew up his sheets and covers, pulled them over him making sure he was comfortable. Then, turning on her heel, she took one last look at the tantalizing and wonderful chamber of Professor Snape; it almost made her sad that she would never see it again. With a deep sigh, she stepped away from the bed and her exhausted and now sleeping Potions Professor, and walked out of the room into the hall as the clock struck one. She felt better about helping her teacher, but how could she know if it was the right thing to do? What she paid later? Only tomorrow would resolve that.

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**A/N:** Okay, the title was _going_ to be "No Strings Attached", but I decided I'd name it "Starry, Starry Night". Is it too fruity? Or is the other one better? Review the chapter, and tell me which one you like better, OR if you have another suggestion…but I like the Starry title the best so far.


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